Fox Coop
by Otulissa
Summary: Half blind, lonely and very naive Sara-Ann Napier longs to see the world beyond her front door. Her chance comes when her aunt and brother arrange for her to see what it's like outside. Will her opinions of her prison change? Short story.
1. Chapter 1 Coop

Sara-Anne recognized the sound of his shoes in the hall. She could easily tell his long steps from her aunt's brisk and spontaneous ones and these still from the maids'. It was an odd useless talent and she hadn't had to practice it.

She continued to paint as the doors opened. "Good morning Paper-doll." Evelyn greeted her.

Sara turned around and smiled. "Hello sweet brother. She said as he piled her curly hair on top of her head and looked over her shoulder.

"Still painting ponds?"

"Still chasing foxes?"

Evelyn smiled and kissed her forehead. "What is it?"

"It's Lake Superior, don't you recognize it?" Sara asked as her brother went over to the window and sat. She studied the clouds she had painted above the lake then looked to him. "What troubles you? You can tell me you know; you could always."

Evelyn looked at her. "What would you think of a man who wanted to marry for love?"

Sara looked at him still completely bewildered.

"I mean to say, would you fancy someone of that sort. Would that be something you wanted?"

Sara dried her brush. "In this society." She thought. "I reckon I'd marry him regardless and think about love latter. America is the place of second chances. Here you can only do right once."

Evelyn laughed. "Yes, we English and or unforgiveable mannerisms."

"I don't mean you of course." Sara said. There was a moment of silence and Sara thought it a good moment to say what she needed to say. "You still think about her don't you; about your friend? It's been years. None of you are getting younger. In my opinion she was remarkably foolish to—"

"Careful Sara-Anne, you do not know her." Evelyn said.

"Well I should like to." Sara said, "If ever I were allowed to go places and meet people. What more you never come see me. You used to come twice in a month. Now when you do come you are always in that awful uniform and you are half the person you used to—"

"For Pete's sake Sara, there's a bloody war on!"

"I know that Evelyn," Sara returned, "You must think I'm completely stupid."

"People are being killed and you sit here day in day out painting ponds."

Sara felt the stab to her heart. "Well I can't help that father has me shut away. I can't help that beyond these walls you're the only child. I can't help that being half blind discredits me a place in society." She looked at her painting as silence once again filled the spaces between them. She counted the ticking of the second hand.

"I'm sorry Sara."

"You didn't have to shout at me."

"I'm sorry. You're right. You can't help the situation." He glanced over at her. "But you should know that neither can I. I didn't ask for there to be war."

Sara cleaned her brush. "Don't be ridiculous Evelyn no one asked for this war." She watched him for a moment then remembered. "Oh I made something for you." She slid off her stool and went over to the mantel. "I've been up to more than just painting." She picked up what appeared to be a handkerchief and presented it to him. "I did it all on my own…not a stitch of assistance." She smiled with pride as he unfolded the handkerchief. "It's a fox!" She exclaimed. "He's leaping in rye. I know you like them." She took it back from him and stuffed it in his top pocket. "Try not to let this one get caught."

/

That evening she stared at her reflection. Her cataract only surprised her when she realized what a contrast it was to her brown eye. She pushed her fingers through her curly hair and looked down a 4x5 of her brother carrying her on his back when she was about four. Her aunt entered, as was her custom every night.

"My dear nephew is being eroded away." She said as she stood behind Sara in the mirror. "If he were are headstone he'd be illegible."

"I can see that he is different." Sara said. "All he ever does anymore is scold me. I think he believes now, that I am useless." She looked again at her reflection. "And he's right." She rested her head on the table. "How can I prove to him…how I can I prove to me that I am a worthy person. All my life people have done things for me. You and Evelyn, the friends back home, the maids here. All I do is paint and watch my chickens lay eggs."

"And what more do you wish to do?" Aunt Margot asked her.

Sara sat up. "Elisabeth said that citizens are organizing soup kitchens. What if I helped there?"

"Sara, for someone like Elisabeth that would be fine; she's a maid. For someone like you however—"

"But who is to know who I am. My father writes me whenever it is convenient for him and he probably has someone do that for him. No one knows, and no one ever has to know."

Margot smiled. "We have left the land of fantasies and opportunity my dear." She said. "However, your brother and have been talking and we both think it would be fare if you had a little adventure of your own."

"I thought it was you who said I was getting too old for adventures."

"Never mind what I said. This is what I'm saying now. We have arranged for you to go to Downton."

"Me! Are such noble people to find out that Evelyn has a sister?"

"You will not go as yourself you will go as my maid. Let's pretend for a moment that your dear aunt wants to contribute to Lady Grantham's hospital." Margot smiled and so did Sara. "I hope they need eggs."

Early in the morning Evelyn came to bid Sara farewell. She smiled as he came into her room. "You are not cross with me are you?"

"No." Sara whispered. "As long as you aren't angry with me either."

Evelyn kissed her forehead.

She touched a button on his uniform. "Do you have you fox in the rye?"

"Right here." Evelyn patted the pocket. "What do you say, when I get back I take you to Queen's Park to see the fish in the ceiling?"

"You said that the last time."

"But this time I promise."

Sara stood on her knees and hugged him then watched him walk once again out of her life. He was the only father figure she had ever known. Her aunt's many lovers had tried but…well…none of them were around now were they?

"Good bye Evelyn."

On Saturday Sara stood in front of her chicken coop. She had thought that fourteen eggs would be enough. It was the number of times she had retied her profusion of her this morning and the number associated with her age since the spring of the year. Fourteen only, in case they didn't like them.

"Sara!"

Coming!"

/

George had always thought that Sara-Anne was strange even for an American. She spoke of stateside things like he should know them. Like how she loathed learning of The Battle of Little Big Horn or how she missed racing around big Plantation houses. He looked back at her. "Almost there now."

Sara craned her neck. "I used to believe that only fairytale princesses lived in castles." She said. "It sort of takes away from the fantasy. If it's all the same to you sir, I'd like to walk from here."

"Walk?"

"If I told you why you'd laugh." Sara said opening the door as the car stopped. She went over to his window. "I'm not a lady. Not like these people here. I know you have lots of customs and that things that I may at times deem silly are taken as insults here but you'll have to bear with me for I fear no amount of English soap can clean this American hide."

George laughed. "Don't exhaust yourself M' dear."

Sara-Anne smiled. She preferred imy dear/i and things in this vein over tawdry titles. She took the letter from her Aunt and started the walk.

By the time she was close enough to see how grand it actually was she thought she would drop dead. Out of habit and confused by exhaustion she worked her way into the courtyard. She had rested for a second when barks tore through the yard. She jumped back against the wall as a dog met her. It barked, flashing its teeth and tugging at its rope.

"Rollo!" A voice scolded from inside, "Down Rollo." Branson grabbed the now whimpering dog by the collar. "Oh, hello. I don't believe I know you."

Sara tried to hold out her Aunt's letter but drew back when the dog tried to move forward.

"Are you afraid of dogs?"

"I do not like them."

"He's harmless. He was just excited. He's not normally out here but he wasn't getting on with his Lordship's dog."

Sara nodded and inched her way to the door. "I have a letter here from Ms. Smith. She wanted to make a contribution towards your efforts here…at the hospital."

"If that dog were a chicken I'd long ago put it in a pot to shut it up!" A red haired woman suddenly appeared in the doorway. She faltered in her actions and stared at Sara-Anne. "Can we help you?"

Sara hastily handed her the letter. When she was sure the woman had read enough she held up the basket. "She wanted me to bring you eggs."

"Eggs?" The woman said peering into the basket. She looked again at Sara-Anne. "You're not from around here are ya?"

"American." Branson said.

Sara glanced at him then back at the woman. "No ma'am, I am as he says."

"Well!" The woman said startling Sara. "Don't look so glum about it. All God's creatures come from many corners of the earth." She was now pushing Sara indoors. "You must thank Ms. Smith for the eggs, it is mighty generous of her. And such fine specimens too."

"Thank you ma'am, I most certainly will."

"Ah, call me Ms. Patmore."


	2. Chapter 2 Hen house

Over the days Sara brought eggs. The chickens were laying in great supply and they had many to spare. The Red Cross said to give all you could give and there were certainly many people in need.

On a foggy wet day Sara pulled her wagon toward the Courtyard. For the first time since she had come there was already someone there. Her face lit up.

"Were you expecting me?"

"Not unless you're St. Peter."

The wagon caught in the mud and she gave it a hard yank. Instead of breaking loose it flipped over and the cargo spilt across the ground. Sara scrambled to collect them as Thomas watched. She looked up at him and he started over slowly.

"Well it's good to know where the eggs have been coming from. Nothing 'round here's been laying."

Sara inspected the eggs before she put them back in the wagon. She rolled her dress skirts to her knees to keep them clean, thankful that she had worn dark stockings. "Maybe…maybe they are depressed."

A strange look crossed the man's face and Sara thought she had said one of those things that American consider casual but the English consider insulting. "If I were a chicken and my country was at war I don't think I'd want to lay eggs." She said innocently.

"What about yours then?"

"My chickens are American." She smiled and collected more eggs while Thomas stood above her smoking. He caught her staring at the glove on his hand and glanced at it himself.

She looked at his uniform. "Were you out there?" She waited for an answer. "Does it….does it hurt?" She continued to stare. "It must be difficult…I mean to try to live life the same as before." When she saw the look on his face her eyes went wide. "Oh dear…I hope I haven't said anything insulting."

"No." Thomas said almost emotionlessly. "Being disabled isn't the end of the whole world."

Sara looked down. "No…no I suppose it's not."

A stern looking woman suddenly stepped into the yard. "Thomas what creature is this?"

Sara stood quickly as Thomas leaned back casually on the wall. "The Egg Girl."

"Egg girl?"

Sara couldn't help to smile. She found it amusing how they pronounced both i_egg/i _and igirl/i. "My name is Sara-Anne. Ms. Patmore knows me."

"Ah," The woman said. "The one Daisy has been going on about. I'll let them know you're visiting." The woman turned on her hills then stopped when Sara didn't follow. "This way." She said but Sara was too naïve to notice when someone was being insulting.

"I'll see you later Thomas."

/

When Thomas entered later with an oddly large egg Ms. Patmore and Daisy knew where it had come from. "Did you really have to rob that poor homely girl of her hard work?" Ms. Patmore said.

Thomas tossed the egg in the air, "Don't be sore about it Ms. Patmore what the eyes don't see the heart don't miss. Your little Egg Girl is already half clueless."

"Really, to be so nasty." Daisy said.

"You'd rob a wee baby." Ms. Patmore said.

"She certainly is a lot less than I expected." Thomas said, "They way Napier went on about her you'd think she was his sister born on the wrong side of the blanket." Up went the egg.

/

Sara had gotten into the habit of observing her surroundings. Before she would rush up to the house but now she took time out to notice the land that surrounded it. She stood in the courtyard buying time before she had to be home.

She was interrupted by Daisy coming in. "I thought you'd gone for the day."

"I was just thinking to myself." Sara said. "What if I were to bring my chickens here? They wouldn't be a burden and I'd be the one looking after them. They are very passive, and it'd save me the trip."

"You speak of your chickens like they are tiny people." Daisy said as she empted the ash pan.

"I know them better than people…most people."

"Well it's good that you put so much time into them. Most people just see a bird to be eaten."

"Well, raising chickens isn't exactly what most would consider a dream."

"What do you dream of?"

"My brother coming home. I'd like for us to see Virginia. What about you Daisy? Do you dream of your William coming home?"

Daisy smiled. "Sometimes beyond that. I dream of the war ending entirely so all the boys can come back home. And petty things too of course like a fancy hat or fine gloves for my hands... It's all rather silly isn't it?"

Sara laughed. "Your hands aren't bigger than mine." She concluded. "I have a pair you can have."

Daisy frowned and picked up her bucket as O'Brien came into the courtyard. This didn't deter Sara-Anne. "Honest, next time I come I'll bring them straight away."

"And where does or fancy Egg Girl get gloves to throw away?"

"In America a woman need not be nearly a princess to have nice things."

O'Brien scoffed. "And in this country subordinate girls hold their tongues."

"They don't ask to be born poor."

"You're right, it's the parents' fault for having children they can't afford."

"Well how would you have it?" Sara said. "Would you rather they all die before they are born?" She hit a nerve. She saw the woman's face flinch and somehow this put her at ease. The wicked woman was human after all.

Sara marched out the gate yanking her empty wagon behind her. On the path she met a wounded soldier and on a leash was Rollo. She gave the dog a wide birth and continued on her trek. She stopped when she heard the owner fussing.

Rollo was barking in pulling at his leash nearly dragging the wounded soldier. "Heal Rollo!"

Sara looked in the direction the dog was barking and that's when she saw it, a tawny creature trotting across the yard. The war had taken its toll on dog, Sara knew, but never had she seen him so savage. He broke loose from his owner and bolted across the yard.

"Rollo No!" Sara screamed but a dog doesn't always care to listen. She started to run but her feet seemed heavy. The fox was running too but the scrawny thing just was not moving fast enough. It turned to defend itself and in a second Rollo had it in his mouth and in two seconds he had killed it.

The soldier limped up behind Sara who stood over Rollo and the dead fox. "Stupid dog!" She snapped. "Stupid people and their stupid dogs."

"Now, now." The soldier said. "Ole Rollo hasn't had a good sport in years and besides look at the fox."

Sara did.

"He didn't have much life left in him the way I see it." He petted Rollo as he whimpered for approval. "By the look of the wound on his face I'd say he had a fight with an owl or another fox. A fox isn't any good with one eye. Rollo did it a favor…there is less pain this way."

Sara didn't remember her feet moving all she knew was that she was suddenly halfway down the path and far away from the soldier and his dog and the dead fox. Maybe that was it. Maybe being locked away was her father's way of putting her out of her misery. In her cozy prison she was safe from the wild world that would scorn her.


	3. Chapter 3 Rye

Sara returned to Downton only to collect her wagon. She would have liked to have said goodbye to the staff that had been kind to her but she d risk running into O Brien again. She had chosen the wrong day to catch a coach but her aunt hadn t expected her out and had tied up George so she had no other choice.  
>It wasn t rain exactly more of a terrible mist. She glanced back in the direction of Downton. How could she give up so easily? She had felt so alive going there, seeing other people and learning of their lives and adventures. She looked up from her thoughts as a motor car drew up. Sara turned away so she wouldn t have to look at the people.<br>Excuse me, young girl? Young girl? Sara looked. Are you talking to me ma am? There is no one else standing in the rain. The woman said. Are you lost? No ma am I m just waiting for a ride home. And where is that? It s far away.

The woman looked at her for a while. Graham, She then said to the driver. Help this young girl with her wagon. Oh no ma am. Sara quickly objected.  
>Nonsense child, I can t leave you standing in the rain.<p>

Sara supposed that this woman could very well have left her in the rain. The ride was awkward and it was the woman who did all the talking. Sara just watched the scenery go by.  
>I ve just come from Downton Abbey. The woman had somehow got around to saying. It is a noble thing of Lord Grantham to do for the war. She fixed her gloves. I couldn t imagine doing that at Queen s Park. Queen s Park? Sara s brows went up. You live at Queen s Park, the house with fish in the ceiling? The woman laughed. Oh is there still talk of that? She mused. People used to turn to stone at the mention of it. It s quit the marvel. They used to come for miles around just to see the mysterious fish in the ceiling. Those were the halcyon days.<p>

I ve never seen them. Sara said.  
>Shame. Well I suppose I ve never really left my Aunt s house until recently. Well I don t suppose you d have time now? She ll worry about me. Nonsense, we ll just call her right up, soon as we arrive.<p>

Lady Farley called for a maid as soon as she was in the door. It had been raining hard since they started up the drive and Sara hard hardly avoided getting soaked.  
>Watch your step, don t slip my dear. Lady Farley cautioned. She talked hurriedly with the maid about preparations of some sort. Sara, She finally said. wait for me in the drawing room. Patsy show her the way.<p>

The maid Patsy showed Sara into the drawing room. The girl took in every corner of house. Never in all her life had she seen something so wonderful, so beautiful.  
>Here you are. Patsy said opening the door.<br>I didn t see any fish. Sara said.  
>Did you bother to look up? Patsy said and closed the door behind her.<br>Shrugging off the short remark Sara did look up. She couldn t stop her mouth from dropping open. In the aquamarine ceiling in an elegant spiral swam dozens of ivory fish circling a glimmering chandelier. She spun in circles trying to see every inch of it out once. It was too much to behold, her breath was taken away. She kept expecting the water to drip down on her.  
>Evelyn it is better than you could have ever described. So I see we re back to this again. Sara whirled around at the sound of a voice. Upon seeing her face the man looked equally surprised. A strange instinct overtook Sara and she scrambled for the furthermost corner.<br>I m sorry, did I say something to frighten you? It must have been something awful to send you blundering like a silly fox. He smirked.  
>Sara looked at the cigarette between his fingers then at his uniform but she didn t leave her corner.<br>You must be here because of my mother. The man said seating himself. She s always brining in wild pets. He took a drag on his cigarette. Always to see that dratted ceiling. I thought the rush had ended. He looked at Sara. I guess I shouldn t be so hard on the poor woman. I suppose she needs something to muse over while I m gone. The expendable son and the only one left. Sara looked up at him. Oh sure everyone here pretends to be happy but somewhere down the line they ve lost someone to this bloody war. He stared at the mantle. My friends blown to bits. He looked down fighting tears. And this bloody mural, He sniffled. It s meant to tell stories you know. The artist related it to society. My interpretation? See how they all spiral to the center? It the aristocrats and the people that serve them, all being sucked into this beautiful vortex each one hasting after the other, right into society s mold. He looked at her. I hope I haven t ruined the beauty of it for you love. But I ve seen firsthand how true that mural is and perhaps that s why I hate it. Sara inched down the wall.  
>Perhaps it s the artist s rendition of people coming together. All God s creatures come from all corners of the earth. Maybe the artist wanted to show how beautiful it is when they all come together. Not like they re doing now with this war. The man scoffed. You re untouched by the world. Untouched? Sara said, I wear the scar it mauled me with everyday. The man turned away and Sara stepped forward. I am sorry about your brothers.<p>

iDear Evelyn You ve always thought me impatient and you d be right. However I m not justifying myself when I say that circumstance took me to Queen s Park. I saw the fish and they are everything you described and more. Rather than visit there how about we go to Virginia? I ve always wanted to see Virginia. There is just something so wonderful about the name. Virginia. When I say it I dream of tall pines and golden fields. We should go, you and I. We can run in the grass and lie in the sun. It s just so quiet and lonely here at times. Even the farm yard is lonely with all the horses gone. You were right about your friend. She isn t foolish. I ve met a lot of people and each are good in their own way I suppose. Even the most wretched of them worry over someone. What impressed me most though is that they are all trapped. All along it has been the people on the outside who were in the prison. They are the ones with the sorrows, the shattered hopes and the crushed dreams. Me myself, I am foreign to these things. All I had was what I knew to exist. I have less to lose, les to grieve. So I ll be here, watching the rye, waiting for my fox to come bounding back.

Love Sara-Anne /i

Sara rolled the blankets up to her chin and closed her eyes to dream of Virginia. She had just started to fall asleep when the bedroom door slowly opened 


End file.
